In last week's recap of my crazy AF Lyft ride, we discussed how my driver tried to usurp my freedom of speech/expression because I didn't have a profile picture and her hatred of drunk riders who give her poor scores and tips. At the tail end of last week's conversation she transitioned into her hatred of Nigerian rap as she spoke to... a Nigerian-American passenger (me/narrator).
Let's continue.
- Her - finds a different station.
- Me (Narrator): The music sounds like Reggaeton. Legit, like island music, specifically Dominican I think.
- Her: I think this is Nigerian rap. I cannot stand Nigerian rap. It is so not far me.
- Me (internally): Triggered. As. Fuck.
- Me (Narrator): Ya'll... I'm Nigerian-American.
- Her: I just can't stand it. You can't understand anything they're saying.
- Me (Narrator): We are not listening to Nigerian rap, we are listening to Daddy Yankee. I cannot. I am laughing hysterically on the inside and trying to decide if I should tell her she has someone with Nigerian lineage in her car. I decide not to because... I owe her nothing. It is at this point that I have to start texting a friend so that I can focus my energy elsewhere. I'm also about a solid 10 more minutes away from home. How on earth have I experienced all of this foolishness with a stranger, and I'm still 10 minutes away from home is beyond me!
- Me (internally) - This bitch is dumb. I need out of this car.
- Me: Mhmm.
- Her: Did you know there are a lot of Nigerians in Houston? They all live (insert very specific intersection).
- Me (Narrator): You all, this is a lie. Nigerians live all over this city. She is dumb.
- Me (internally): As fuck.
- Her: That area is really kinda tacky. Like the buildings, well you know. But they all live over there.
- Me (internally): What the fuck?
- Her: But their food is delicious.
- Me (internally): Am I dead?
- Her: Since I drive so much, I get all of these recommendations. I walked into one of their restaurants over there by (insert very specific intersection.) I walk in and everyone stops and stares. I think I shocked them. So I say, "It's okay, I'm part of the integration police. I'm here to push integration though." And they all laughed!
- Me (internally): Did she just say immigration police?
- Me (Narrator): No she said integration police.
- Me (internally): Oh okay because... if it had said immigration police, this would not be funny.
- Me (Narrator): It isn't funny now. I doubt anyone really laughed along with her.
- Me (internally): Right!?! I think they all just chuckled for her benefit or some shit.
- Me (Narrator): They did.
- Her: I think I'm the first white person to ever walk into that restaurant.
- Me (Internally): OH MY GOD WHY AM I NOT HOME YET.
- Me (Narrator): Breathe.
- Her: I told them I'm open to try anything so they brought out all these different dishes. It was all so good! Except one of the dishes was kind of slimy.
- Me (Internally): Okra soup prolly.
- Her: I think it's oak-kra.
- Me (Internally): I really do not like when people pronounce things with that accent. It just doesn't sound right. Or like when they say Yo-ROO-Bah instead of how we actually say it, YOUR-roo-bah.
- Her: Then they asked to take a picture with me. I know why. I told them, fine you can take a picture but you can't post it and say "Even white people eat her." You have to say "Everyone eats here."
- Me (internally): Is this what she thinks ally-ship is?
- Me (Narrator): Yes.
- Her: And they did, they posted my picture on Yelp and said "everyone eats here." I've been to a few more restaurants since then. When I can. With Lyft, it's hard though. They're letting me basically use their car but that means I have to do 75 rides per week which really means I have to drive on the weekends but I cannot stand driving drunk people. The only people I can drive who are drunk are like three friends and my sister. I'll give her hell for a few days, but I'll do it.
- Me (internally): Wait, there are people who plan on being mean to their siblings in advance?
- Her: Oh, this is a cute neighborhood.
- Me: Thank you. It's really quiet. I love it.
- Her: No, you're gonna laugh at the reason I said it's cute. It's 'cause everyone's lawn is manicured. I think that's a sign that people care. Like look at all these lawns. See, I didn't even say anything and there's a guy right there working on his lawn.
- Me (internally): This woman has no idea that this is the same guy who blasts music after 10pm from his garage for the whole neighborhood to "enjoy."
- Her: Ugh, but that lawn, and that one...I would just put a little note on the door saying that they should mow their grass because their lawn has become an eye sore.
- Me (internally): OMG! So bitches really pre-meditate passive aggressive notes to neighbors? I could never. Thank god this ride is about to end.
- Her - pulls up to my driveway.
- Her: Alright this is you. You guys should trim the grass a bit before it gets too out of hand.
- Me (internally): Oh my Go---is this bitch insulting my---while I'm still in the---this bitch is toned-mutha-fuckin-deaf.
- Me: Bye! Have a great day.
- Her: Did you add your profile picture yet?
- Me: I will in the house. This is a bad angle.
- Her: You should add it now.
- Me: I will. Bye.
- Me --- flees from car. Eyes wide open. Opens door. Locks door. Dog excited to see me jumbs around my life.
Ya'll... all of that happened. Like for real for real. I like quiet drivers, but once in a while you are paired with one that likes conversation. For the most part, they're always older gentlemen who want to give life advice. But this one ya'll... this one.
I'm at a loss.
Anyway, I immediately called one of my sisters and she laughed hysterically at the tomfoolery of it all. She thinks all of my rides are crazy but that's primarily because A. I use the ride-share apps so much and B. I always call her when I experience one out of pocket.
And then she told me to write it down. My loss is your gain. Now that I'm not in the car, I can laugh, but that shit was beyond. She was pushy, abrasive, and totally disconnected.
I still haven't given her a rating.